


all the skeletons you hide

by annperkinsface



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25719892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annperkinsface/pseuds/annperkinsface
Summary: Hadn't she been so devout? A faithful child of the order, always smiling, her voice filling the church's halls, songs and prayers tripping off her lips. The throng of believers she saw every mass cupping them with gentle reverent palms; the children's eyes gone wide, bright, asking for another Miss Kyrie, please, another, no one sings as pretty as you. That light extinguished now and Kyrie couldn't even sing to comfort them and for the first time she felt how well and truly useless she was, now when she couldn't even do this.
Relationships: Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	all the skeletons you hide

“Kyrie,” Nero says, after, eyes and voice gentle. Or as much as there can be an after with a city in shambles; with a home, a heart—hers still thudding inside her chest even when it feels like it should be somewhere outside her body, painfully loud even to her human ears. "What do you want?”

They're standing in Kyrie's childhood home, in the middle of the foyer. Light falls through the new hole in the ceiling and catches on the angle of Nero's jaw, clenched impossibly tight. Even the devastation finding its way here isn't enough to bring Kyrie to tears; she hasn't cried, not once. Nero had, and the image of him bent over Credo's body was burnt behind her eyelids, Nero collapsing into furious sobs while Kyrie stood back and watched, eyes almost painfully dry.

Hadn't she been so devout? A faithful child of the order, always smiling, her voice filling the church's halls, songs and prayers tripping off her lips. The throng of believers she saw every mass cupping them with gentle reverent palms; the children's eyes gone wide, bright, asking for another Miss Kyrie, please, another, no one sings as pretty as you. That light extinguished now and Kyrie couldn't even sing to comfort them and for the first time she felt how well and truly useless she was, now when she couldn't even do this.

Here, now, Kyrie stands and watches again, the pendant Nero had given her hanging heavy round her neck. The difference is this time Nero watches back. The sun is about to set; the soft light tints Nero's hair orange. "You," Kyrie says, watching how his eyelashes flutter when she draws near, the way he leans into the touch of her hand when she brushes some dust from his hair. He had been helping move debris, his Devil Bringer bathing the world blue, and when those in observance murmured at the spectacle it was in appreciation, not fear. _You don't have to hide_ , Kyrie thinks, wishing she could make him believe that when he catches her hand when she makes to pull back, holding her close with his Devil Bringer before dropping it as if he'd been stung. _Not from me._

Nero blinks, the surprise blooming bright across his face bleeding into something soft, sweet. His Devil Bringer twitches by his side but he lifts his other hand to tuck some hair behind her ear. "I want you too," he says, softly, and her throat closes at the quiet simplicity of it; his words, his fingers lingering by her cheek. "But that's not what I meant."

Kyrie's breath escapes in a shudder. She wants—a diversion or an act of god, pinned in place by Nero's unfaltering gaze. Nero has a way of looking is the thing. Kyrie knows, feels it all the way down to her molecules: she is being seen. "I know," she says, just as soft, but you can't always get what you want. She wants to go back to yesterday, searching for Nero's face in the crowd and her heart leaping to her throat when she finds it; his eyes on her, no one else. She wants to not be an orphan twice over. She wants her brother to be alive. "I know what you meant."

"We don't have to stay," says Nero. "You know that, right? Fuck anyone in Fortuna but you, especially now. We can leave. Go to the mainland. I don't care. I just want to be wherever you are."

She tries to picture it, this life on the mainland, but the image keeps escaping her grasp. Who would Kyrie of not Fortuna be? What would she look like? She can give up her church clothes, swap them for big comfy sweaters and jeans with holes in the knees, but that's just physical. She doesn't need to go anywhere to do that. She can play pretend but none of it will change the truth: Kyrie can leave Fortuna but Fortuna won't ever leave her.

 _Devotion is a funny thing,_ Kyrie thinks. It's shaped them both in different ways, children of the order that they are. Nero wears his like an ill fitting suit, something a little too tight around the shoulders, but he wears it all the same, complaining petulantly all the while. But Kyrie remembers how his face had looked when the crowd had murmured about his Devil Bringer, how the creases of it had softened under the dirt streaking his face at their genuine awe and thanks. He's not lying but he's not telling the complete truth either. Because Fortuna is their home, for better or worse, and it has given as much as it has taken away. It has given them each other.

Kyrie swallows and steps into him, balling her fist in his shirt and tucking her face into his chest. Tears spring to her eyelashes when Nero's arms come up around her, no fear or hesitation, just love and comfort. She tries to blink them away but a few soak the fabric. She squeezes her eyes shut. "I want to stay and rebuild, I think," she says, voice faintly wet, "but I don't know. Can you stay and hold me until I figure it out?"

"Yeah," says Nero, pressing his lips to her hair. "Of course."

And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> been sitting on this one a longgggggg time....basically since dmc5 came out lmao. thought i would brush off my writing rust and finish it! there needs to be way more kyrie centric fic in the world imo; canon doesn't give us much but i had fun extrapolating lmao


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